OMG!!!1!

The following is a dramatization. It is meant to entertain as well as provide some truth. If you want a slightly more clear picture of what happened, try somewhere else.

Via email I sent a note that went something like this:

"Yesterday, at school, Son was struck by a rock while playing. There's very little damage, and Son is fine, but I thought you should know."

I'm going to pretend that this was via IM, but it was on the phone:

Charlie: Hello?
X: I don't understand.
Charlie: [sigh] What don't you understand?
X: Yesterday was Saturday, why was he at school?
Charlie: He wasn't. I'm sorry, but he was out playing with a friend. I was a little muddled when I wrote it.
X: What are U trying 2 hide from me?
Charlie: What?
X: Let M3 talk to Son.
Charlie: Okay.

[pause while Son answers questions, I roam the house for no reason.]

Son: She wants to talk to you.
Charlie: [sighing, takes the phone] Hello?
X: OMG!!!1! U R Bad! He has Concussion, He told m3! What is wrong with U? H3 should b3 in the hospital!!!!1!
Charlie: Ummm...
X: I am s3nding 4mbul4nc3! U R L1AR!! B4D!!!
Charlie: I don't...
X: |-|3 h45 b33|\| +hr0w1|\|g up 4nd c4|\|'+ s33! H3 h4|> |>14R|-|34 2 w33|<5 4g0!!1! U R 4bu51|\|G |-|1|\/|!!!1!

Charlie: ... mmmkay. Well, I can call the school nurse, and...
X: |\|0!!1! U R LIAR!!! I W1|| c4|| 4mbu14n<3!!

Charlie: Okay. How about I hang up now?
X: F1|\|3.

About 30 minutes later I get the police on my doorstep. It's just one guy, and he's laughing about this one before I open the door. Like he can tell the shrill call of the psycho by the dispatch (which might be true).

He tells me that they'd rather not send out an ambulance on a call like this unless they know they have to, asks a few questions about my relationship with my ex, peers at Son's eyes, asks him how he feels, and leaves.

But he showed up. Now my son, not an idi0t, can draw a straight line between his conversation with her ("how do you feel?") and his conversation with the police.

Is she trying to look like a psycho to her own child? All these years I thought she was trying to make him like her, but damn!

We have tails, and we have teeth...

I'm going to explain the title, something I rarely do. My ex has emailed me on a point mostly on religion. My first thought was "Stupid, stupid rat creature!", but that would be too obvious, so I went one level up to Coraline. Of course, that's also too obvious, but I'm feeling lazy.

I'm probably committing a major no-no in netiquette, since I'm posting the email entire. I apologize to those offended, but it was in my inbox and I feel that I must explore this.

I'll start with a little info. In court, under oath, my ex stated that she would support the religious choice of my son, particularly concerning the LDS church - of which my wife is a member and my son has asked repeatedly to be allowed baptism into. I see nothing wrong with it, and support my sons right to choose.

The first bit is about taxes:

>I will be claiming him this year...
>
> I'm sorry, I didn't know about this and I've already
> filed my taxes.

That is ok then we will both be audited. I suggest you
change you tax return. I am entilted to claim him
every other year and when I asked you about this years
ago you lied to me and told me I could not. Ypu owe me
this and the next 7 years. I am not going to let you
walk all over me anymore.

Bite me.

I'm still looking into this for the state of Colorado, but it looks like they use the federal regulations as a guide for this. (confirmed)

> So, you don't believe people can change their minds,
> or is that what you are
> doing? I don't fully understand your answer so I'll
> rephrase the question
> to leave [Ultrason's] decision out of it.
>
> Would you allow [Ultrason] to be baptised into the LDS
> church?

Absolutley not, I would not like my child to be
damned, like you. Also I want him out of that boy
scout troop,. They were calling other spirts into
people bodies I really do not want [Ultrason] to have
anything to do with that church. I feel very strongly
about this. I know you do not have much to do with
that church [Ultrason] tell me that you do not even go.
So I do not know why you want him to go there so bad.
Is [Mrs. Charlie] making you send him there?

I attend quite frequently (almost as often as my wife does). I don't attend Sunday School or priesthood meetings, but neither do my sons.

But my main beef is that she's a frippin' lying psycho. Under oath she said that she'd support the LDS church as a choice for my son. Maybe 2 weeks ago (Feb 16th) is when she said this, and I knew it for a lie then. She'd told me that she hated Mormons, called them "lizard worshippers", and that it was a key reason for not letting Ultrason go to Utah. Now that court is over, she might think it's smoothing sailing, but I hope to turn this one around. I want her pummelled by the swift hand of justice. But in a "Monty Python"esque way. Like descending out of the clouds and squashing her on PBS.

(Although I'm not a member of the LDS church, nor any other church, I support my children in exploring any religion. I think it would be poor parenting to not allow my children that much.)

Golgotha Tenement

How cold-hearted would you have to be in order to leave a child in a house with a pedophile while you go to school?

What kind of returns could that child expect from the education, and does it make up for the psychoses he would suffer from the experience?

These are the questions before me. It starts with a simple, "I can leave him in this state and complete my degree. I wouldn't get much time with him anyway, so no harm there..."

But this isn't about me, so I have to review the effects on HIM. I also ask his opinion on this, but he doesn't seem to know either way, or care. He's 10.

Some suggest that waiting another 2 years and getting the recommended re-evaluation might be a good idea. But my G.I. Bill runs out, and I'm not sure if I'd be accepted by then... plus the job opportunities dwindle as we reach that point in time. We must move quickly, if we are to move at all.

My wife raises some valid points about our economic condition (bad) and possibilities (nil) inside the state. I think there's a bit I can do, but I admit that it looks ugly.

At any rate, I present the findings of the Court regarding us, in hopes that they serve both myself and others:

1) I said a bunch of stuff, proposed a good parenting time schedule (save the drive time) and the court feels that my reasons for moving were marginal, and not really in Ultrason's best interests.

2) Respondent bitches because of travel time and that the court cannot fashion a reasonable visitation schedule.

3) See #1, except that I tried to decieve the court by telling them that I'd been accepted the the biomedical engineering program at U.U. when, in fact, I have not. Also, The Child can get just as good an education in Colorado as in Utah, thankyouverymuch.

4) The court finds the bitch's fears justified, because the paperwork from our last proceeding requires her to do all the driving.

5) Education for the child, evidence lacking.

6) Both parties are loving, caring parents.

7) The extended family thing is a factor, but is mitigated because he can see and hear them pretty frequently in Colorado, or through visiting them in Utah.
(This means that they don't live far enough away for visitation to be a problem. Interesting, that.)

8) The Court can't fashion a reasonable parenting schedule out of this, so we're going to let you hang and tell you to keep everything as is, because it's clearly fine.

And, finally, if the petitioner, that lying weasel, leaves the state regardless, he'll have to drop the kid at the respondent's on the way out.

No resolution, no nothing. No change. The more sugar I ingest, the more I feel like doing some axe kicks or maybe killing orcs.

Killing orcs is good.

"There's a little epilogue to my tale of sadness" - Bart Simpson

Child support. We've been pursuing this issue for some time, although not as actively as we should've. Since 1999 there has been a motion to get this stuff recalculated, and it has yet to be so. I'm thinking that anything is better than $90/month.

Currently I'm thinking that flaming gorillas could gang-rape my ex, using Cacti when they got bored, and I'd pay for front row seats. But mostly I'm annoyed at the court for not seeing what's blatantly there.

I know how this works...

"Of course, that's incidental" - RXM

Recently a friend of mine suggested that we do a webcomic together.

He writes, I draw. As soon as my artwork is better.

Anyone that has done both can see an inherent flaw in this deal: unless
the writer is also dealing with business aspects and the two trust each
other bunches (and both turn out to be honest), not only does the artist
wind up doing a bulk of the work (oh, unless the word "writing" is taken
in the form of literature... I'll not sell the craft of writing short), but
can also wind up getting the shaft financially.

And it's not like I can't write a comic... I just don't.

"Never mix friends or family with money... you'll wind up losing one of them." - Pa Cone

One of the aspects that makes my uneasy is that, regardless, I'd have to look at
my friend differently. I'd have to see him as a business partner, and sometimes
call him out on decisions. Even ones that seem sensible ("You want me to crank out a circle
every 24 hours?! Are you crazy?!") might not work for me. Conflict ensues.

And our friendship takes a hit. Unfairly.

I tried this sort of thing with my brother, briefly. We have similar backgrounds and understand
each other pretty well. Thing is, we never talked about things an artist or writer needs in order
to do the job. Something my friend hasn't done either, and I don't know how seriously to take him
on this one.

I'm thinking about it, honestly. Or hooking him up with my brother.

Whatever.

I knead bread...

I bake as one of my myriad hobbies. I have found that, when a stretch of dough is laid before me that needs thorough pounding, I am relieved of much stress. It is because of this that I have
explored a few recipes (I hesitate to say "many" because I often stick to my favorites). Amongst those recipes is the delightful "Golden Rum Baba". Since alcohol is against the faith of my wife,
and since I hope to receive favorable reviews from same, I have to alter the recipes somewhat. For the glaze, I used grenadine, which proved effecacious. For the soaking, I simply ignored
the alcohol. It turned out rather well.

My wife and I differ as to opinions on how complicated the recipe is. I saw it as rather easy, while she is of the opposite view.

Of course, I love making pretzels, which are complicated in my opinion.

New Text Document(1)

There are several things I don't get...

When you tell someone that your relationship is over, and they should beat it, why don't they take the hint?

Why am I fixated on comic books? Of all the forms of entertainment to really hover about, why that one?

When did the new music start sucking? Is that a function of old age, or is it really bad?

How do I get a babysitter for dates in a town where I don't know anyone, let alone trust them to look after my kids?
Oh, and "free" should be in there somewhere. A free babysitter.

Should I sit down and crank out a screenplay for a comic movie? I mean, a good director, screenplay, actors, and press are all that's needed
for a successful movie, right? Oh, and money for the special effects. LOTS of money. ("How do you get to Carnegie Hall?")

And how come I don't do memes?

My wife brought up the Avengers (comic books) as an example of a comic book NOT to make a movie out of, but I can't see why not.
The classic Avengers consisted of, what, the Wasp, Iron Man, Thor, and The Hulk, right? Huck the Wasp and make it a comic book
movie about big men. Explore what it means to be a man. Or keep the Wasp and have her all into Thor, unrequited love style.

Of course, Thor presents his own problems. The Norse God schtick might not go over well with some folk.

And then there's the trauma of having the Hulk on a team in the first place. "Bruce, ummm... listen, we're about to go into battle, and
well, we might die... I just wanted to tell you that I've been seeing your dog."

"SMASH!"

How many times can a body pull that one off before:
a) becoming a greasespot on bruces shoe
or
b) Bruce starts going, "yeah, whatever."

So maybe my wife is right.

Am I blue?

In Basic Training the goal is to break you down and rebuild, to suit you to the purpose of the military. Some branches are better at it, to the point that members are almost caricatures.
I went through Air Force Basic. The AF is the youngest branch, with few traditions (see also: "drinking and whoring") and relying on Army experience to forge Airmen in less time than the Army gives.
This results in less physically fit members with a stronger sense of independence.
The average Airmen must find his own motivation through basic, having only the most cursory glimpse of patriotism to start them on that road. Most already have some idea (money, travel, girls (or boys), and
that most unlikely of motivators... education). In Basic, if you don't like it, there's always the door. To make it, most
people select "everybody else is doing it" and just keep on chugging along. Most people are, frankly, sheep.
I chose my son. The newborn needed me to insure his future and secure a role model for him, and I'd be damned before letting him down. The grainy polaroids I had got me through the B.S. the military dished out.

The divorce was hard. I watched my wife betray our vows, the military seemed completely unsympathetic, and most of my friends were single guys... unable to grasp what I was going through. The one married
guy I hung out with insisted that what I needed was sex. Lots of it.
I held on, pulled myself up, and slowly burned with determination. A cold fire took hold as I became aware of the one thing, the one important thing before me:
I might lose my son.

Eventually I offered to take the bills and responsibilities and she would take the highway.
She accepted.

But the bitch came back, the very next day...

A minor skirmish occured, and she received a visitation schedule. Ultrason suffered some trauma, threatened suicide, but, in the end, the "experts" said everything was okay.

Now, having offered up evidence that my family should move, that an "A" student seeking further education and employment a mere state away, a present student seeks to escape the
bottom 50% of Colorado and enter the top 1% of Utah, and my wife should be a stay at home mom, we sit in tense wonder of the process, scared out of our minds...

But perhaps me most of all.

I risk losing my son.

I might be getting old...

When did music start sucking? I mean the new stuff. I did a sampling of everything released since about '92 and discovered that I liked maybe 4 songs out of the lot. And I saw well over 400 popular songs.

Did the 80's just rock all to hell, or is it comparative?

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

Going over the evaluation, my ex claims that my current spouse came in and ruined our "planned idyllic life" together.

This boggles the mind. I'll give some background:

She cheated on me. We hit the island of Oahu and, without discussing difficulties or telling me her feelings or anything that women claim they want to do... without even trying to keep things happy with her spouse, she went out and did the horizontal mambo with a couple of army guys.

Then came home and bitched about me.

So I said I'd try to overcome my negative feelings... maybe we could work something out.

What does she do? Stay home and try to discuss it? Write her feelings down? Or, does she go out, get smashed, take a couple guys in ways you read about in "Hustler" (because "Penthouse" is too high class) and then come home and pass out.

You guessed it. She went with door number 3.

All of this happened before I'd even met my wife, let alone considered her for marriage.

Of course, this explains why she can't maintain a relationship. Not that she'd want to. Everytime she gets divorced (yes, more than once) she says she'll never get married again... and then gets married about 2 months later. Hey, what good is a sponge if it never soaks up water, right?

All of her husbands have been pretty nice people, if a bit niave. You try and warn them... I just hate to see people suffer needlessly. I warned her second husband (the guy she was seeing while we were still married... the last guy she was seeing) and it fell on deaf ears.

Which is another issue: Does anybody who's the lover of a married person truly think that their lover would never cheat on them? How stupid is that?

Which, of course, would lead us up to husband #3 on her list. I give him less time to put up with her B.S. Maybe 2-3 years before she finds another guy and he dumps her. He's a cop, so I'm figuring he's got a little gumption. But he cheated with her on his spouse. While she was cheating on her spouse with him. So this one is only a matter of time.

The other spouse ran. Her 2nd husband had to be tracked down (according to her) using a private investigator to serve him his papers. He left her a house and all of his property. It sounds like he was willing to chew off his own arm to escape.

I'm sure that her idyllic life with him was cut short by my wife, who is the source of all her suffering.

Devil went down to Loveland...

The week has been one beautiful, chaotic mess. No, not really.

Rewind to Monday Night, Court date impending, Charlie nervous as all get out.

I make some flippant statement about it getting worse. I'm then informed that one of our witnesses had to bail due to food poisoning.

Tuesday, 8 pm: Babysitter backs out, causing major panic. Blackouts strike the eastern seaboard as we attempt to find cure. Third Seal is broken.

Wednesday morning. Nice, normal. Almost confident. My father-in-law drives me to the courthouse, where comes satan and attorney. I go through my first round of questioning fairly easily. Well, I started fairly easily. I must admit I was shaken when my wife entered in a clear state of agony. Thankfully, the questioning ended shortly and a recess was called. I think the judge was aware of what was going on.

She had ruptured a vertebral disc (one of the cushions between the bones) and needed immediate medical care. I convinced her to go with her dad, and she did. Leaving me with her mom, who was really supportive and helpful. But the thought of my wife in total pain was still distracting. Oh, and another witness didn't show. And the questioning of the witnesses that did make it was woefully lacking in depth. Some of it was really helpful, but there was some... we could've talked about butter and gotten about as much info. And then there was rebuttal. Questions from the opposition continued to rattle me, so much that I couldn't remember the names of friends... really good ones, in Utah. I'd mentioned them earlier, but it was still shaking.

It ended around 4:30, sucking a little hope away with "no verdict today, but keep your eye on that mailbox!"

The pluses:
*I mentioned seeking counseling. So that I could be a better parent.
*webcams
*A few of the oppositions lies were caught. And the leading of the witness by her attorney was also caught. That was nice.
*At no time did I slap anyone or utter the phrase "bite my crank," as I was sorely tempted to do.
*The last 4 years have been mostly peaceful, and that was evident.
*I'm still the primary guardian of my oldest son. And will probably be so as long as I remain in the state.
*An evaluator with a doctorate says that I should take Tristan with me when I move, and that's a big friggin' deal. Really.

The negatives:
*I came across as either a robot or an idiot. Did I mention the name thing? I even managed to think of the name. I whispered "I don't know" on at least 3 separate occassions. This thing was an all day affair. Mostly it was good.
*But a Crystal waving, tea sniffing, wiener claimed that I would definitely run for the border if allowed to move to Utah. And she's a licensed therapist. Her claims went against those of the evaluator in that regard.
*Not once was Satan struck by brazen-lie induced lightning. I kept waiting. Hell, I'm still waiting for the stuff from the last time we were in court. With her last husband present. Next divorce for her in 3...2...1...

The witnesses tended to cancel each other out, with the exception of the counselor. Which wound up being nice.

I get home and my wife and father-in-law aren't there, and I panic. Are they still at the hospital? Did something else happen? What more can occur? We decide to call the woman we managed to get for daycare and ask about the kids.

My wife is there. Score! Mother-in-law stays at home and does mystic things to make us feel better, Father-in-law makes a food run for all of us, and I just take care of my wife and kids.

So, at the moment, aside from a bed-ridden wife, all is well.

Judgement Day...

After that title, I'm going to have trouble tomorrow... but right now I sit in the eye of the storm. My children are still mine, my life isn't in total chaos. Which gives me a chance to talk about yesterday and tomorrow.

Yesterday I was blessed with the opportunity of being... a JUROR. I didn't actually get selected (Although the judicial system demonstrated a remarkable sense of humor) but was able to meet some fascinating people, all from as wide a body as you can imagine.

"I don't know, kid. I can imagine an awful lot." - Han Solo

Okay, a reasonably sized county. We had people drive in (or bus) from the boonies. A homeless guy (I don't know how the mailed him his notice), a few doctors and a guy working on his PhD. Independent business owners. Me. It actually made you hopeful. Most of them seemed capable of making a rational decision.

Until they talked. Criminy! What idiots!

Kidding! The worst part of it was the waiting, the judge jumping out of his seat every two minutes to discuss something with the attorneys while one juror waited to get dismissed. There was a point when one selected juror sighed "yes!" when selected, went to her seat, and told them she couldn't stay due to hardship, and left.

I tried to phone in with that one, but the jury commissioner doesn't handle that. The determination is made by the judge. I wound up talking to a guy about electrical engineering while trying to ignore the MP3 player on full blast whenever the judge left the room.

If you get this call, take it! But bring a book. A good one. Or something to do. And don't forget that you have to go through security.

Which reminds me of another interesting point of the day. A young lady was working security, and one of the jurors was trying to get frisked. He was wearing something (I don't know, lead BVDs maybe) that set off the metal detectors everytime after the first (and, yes, I saw him the first time... and after lunch. And on one recess when I went out to remind myself what outside looked like. It seemed that long.

After lunch, he just smiled and yelled "frisk me!" But he wasn't really paying attention until that point, because she'd been replaced for her lunch. Some guy. The girl was back when we left, and I waved. She smiled and said "see you later," which might be true if I'm still here for 3 years or so and she's still working there. But I'm thinking not.

Today, I patiently wait (clean, really. Mostly) for the in-laws to show up. One of my witnesses husband has food poisoning, which totally stinks. She was relying on him for child care. Also, he's a great guy.

"I tried shoving a wiener in the warp drive..." Mr. Snot, "Star Drek"

So, for now, I'm trying to keep calm... to not snap and scream at every little thing. Particularly the two little things that aren't at school. But my head feels like it's about to pop."

Arguably

I'm going to ramble a bit... flowers, chocolates, the wind rushing past in a good car, waiting in the rain for that special someone, rumba, tango, chocolates, adventure on the high seas, 80's rock, eclairs (with chocolate!), other pastries (really good ones), snorkeling off the Pali, gowns, tuxedoes, babysitting (or better... getting someone else to babysit),giving a massage, getting someone else to give her a massage, roses, balloons, crystal knick-knacks, teddy bears, wearing silk boxers and a smile, buying silk underthings for my woman, and (for the love of god) not singing the theme to "Rawhide" anywhere near her.

That's romance for us. But I'll stop rambling and hit you up with the official post:

Imagine that someone was willing to give you something, like a banner, for letting the ol' imagination fly. Especially in the arena
of romance. Romance is so broad, with every one finding different things romantic, with every person being... multifaceted.

In the past, my wife says, the most romantic thing I've ever done was buy her every rose in Honolulu. That's about right. It was a horrible
time in our life, and things were really crunched... I could have been forgiven forgetting Valentine's. It was that bad.

But I couldn't. My wife is the sweetest, most wonderful person ever! She deserves more than I can give.

That's why, this year, I'm giving her a tiara, a pen, and some flowers and balloons. Okay, fine, it's run-of-the-mill romantic.

But I give her chocolate daily. Almost.

In the future, I'll dance with her on the prow of a ship destined for our second honeymoon on the island of Kauai, dressed to the nines to accompany a
woman deserving only of the best of everything.

Including more chocolate.

Beyond Measure

I'd been divorced, legally, for 3 months when I started thinking seriously about marriage. I'd met this woman at work and thought that she perfectly complemented me. She was smart, fun, loyal, understanding... everything Satan wasn't.
I proposed and the whirlwind continued, rings, flowers, invitations. Everything that one does to prepare for a wedding. We even picked out a gentleman to officiate. We met him and talked about guava cake. Getting to him involved instructions like "turn at the rooster."
Prep time passed and, aside from a tickling in the back of my brain, everything was wonderful. Satan left the state; actually went to the opposite side of the country, my fiancee radiated joy, and most everyone invited was ready to show. My brother even managed some time on island to visit... he couldn't make the wedding, but it was good to see him.
The day closed in. People arrived. I tensed.
When questioned, I blew it off. "It couldn't be anything... I'm too happy!"
The first of many straws my pitiful brain would clutch to.
The day came, and I froze. I could only just make out the words I spoke that morning. "I don't want to get married today."
She... her face was red, her eyes full of tears. The hemispheres in my brain battled: What was I doing? Blowing a shot at happiness? Didn't I just get divorced? This could really suck, should it go badly.
"How am I like her?" I became aware that I was in a conversation. I'd been talking, she'd been talking. And the answer came, clear:

Fiancee != Satan

"Um... Your not."
I fumbled a bit more, but I couldn't really argue. The full thrust of her statements was something like, "do what you want to."

But it was because she loved me, and wanted to see me happy. And I wanted the same for her.

I was still nervous, terrified that I would say the words bonding me to this woman, only to have Satan appear next to me or worse (during the kiss!) and start offering lap dances to the present men.

But it didn't happen. It hasn't happened. I got married to a wonderful woman who is so not Satan, who has yet to ask anyone else out.

Someone who understands me.

Voices

Song can be incredibly beautiful. Everyone has probably heard a song that lifts the heart, or fuels fury, or just depresses the hell out of them. Those songs touch what it is to be human, invariably.

And all my life I've believed that my vocal talents, in a word, suck. Most everyone I know believes they suck. Especially those I grew up with.

Then I meet my wife, and she tells me that I don't suck. That I am, in fact, good. But she might be biased. So then her mom, who has performed in musicals and has a good grasp of music tells me. But she might (despite everything I know about her character) just be nice to her daughter's husband.

So, finally, I'm over at the house of a friend's. My wife has writer's group there, and the kids and I have been hanging out while things wrap up. The house empties of all except wife, kids, and friend. The subject of pirates comes up (Superson has been wearing a pirate hat since Christmas) and the infamous "Pirates of Penzance" comes up. The friend sings a little, and I pick it up and run with it.

I may suck, but I'm not above torturing people.

Friend: "You Sing?" And, yes, that capital is intended. I could hear it. It was like hearing, "you perform on stage professionally?"

Me: "No."

Friend: "You do! You Sing!"

A glance downward tells me that I should accept her word. There's a business card on the counter, which lists her musical credentials nicely. "Composer, Lyricist, Vocalist".

Damn.

I can sing.

Is there nothing I can't do?

hands...

I was reading an Asimov book on Alien intelligence and the odds of contacting such. In passing he mentions that dolphins may be intelligent, but it's really just speculation since tool use among creatures without manipulative appendages is pretty low.

And it hit me, "why not give them hands?"

My wife argues that it would be cruel and irresponsible of us to genetically manipulate a species that might have a lot going on upstairs.

But we wouldn't know unless we try. We know that they retain many mammalian skeletal structures (land animal structure is fairly sound) and hands would allow them to continue swimming as well. We wouldn't see dolphins evolve for millions of years into something like that, if at all.

I tell ya, it's so crazy it just... might... work.

Ragman...

Many a fine superhero flick has come out as of late. By many, I don't mean "Elektra". Or "Catwoman". Or "Daredevil"

Not that these didn't have the potential to be wonderful. All the stories can be poetic, and there have been writers that have created landscapes of the mind within the comics field. Which is saying something, since half of a comic is visual.

I think "Elektra" was digging, though. Was the "Daredevil" movie popular enough, profitable enough, to warrant a spin-off? How well did the "Elektra" comic do?

Answers: "No" and "not very"

But, if we really start digging, we can find a comic character to fill every market niche imaginable (having easily half a century to draw from). I thought I'd toss out some ideas, both Marvel and DC:

Ragman: I've never figured this guy out. I think he was a bum. His super power seemed to be the ability to not notice he'd been hit, and to control his rags. He could be played by Richard Gere. Or Ron Perlman. Or the ubiquitous Jeff Kober.

The Heckler: Him and Slapstick should do a cross-continuity flick with the impossible man and madcap as villains. Much hilarity would ensue. Just look at the names.

The Inhumans: I dunno. A spin-off of the "Fantastic Four" movie(s) that haven't received enough bashing.

Bucky: A guy with a gun. And a "Captain America" spin-off (bad movies of the world - unite!).

Doctor Strange: Sure, he's had a shot at the big screen, but I think it could be done better, and we could use roto-scoping and psychedelics for much more productive purposes, such as resurrecting Ralph Bakshi. If he's dead.

And the world hasn't had enough mispronunciations of Dormammumoomoo. Or whatever.

Sexy girl

I'm attracted to quiet girls. I can't help it. But it generally works out poorly, since I'm shy. My wife manages to somehow be confident and quiet... or at least seem that way.

I was wandering through 2 student centers today when I realized that my eyes try hard to find the long hair in the corners. One had red, the other black. I must admit that I was drawn to the dark, goth-looking girl. Had I been single and younger...

I would've stared at her until she told me to go away.

My wife's hair is "mousey brown". She colors it to make it more in line with her self-image, but the librarian look revs my motor. She's got glasses, mousey hair, and lips that just need to be in the "shhhh..." pose.

I'm going to my happy place now.

War is hell...

"Helm's Deep? Yeah, I remember Helm's Deep. That's where I lost my left eye to those bastard orcs, layin' down suppressive fire while we pulled back. There was women and babies in the caverns, old men in the front lines. And Theoden.

"He was a proper King. Full of fire. Him and some guys comin' outta Moria got personal with them orcs, chargin' in like they was made of stone and breathin' fire! And Gandalf!

"We were down to the last. Them orcs woulda et us without second thoughts, if Gandalf hadn't shown up with the Rohirrim. Damn, that was a sight. We were up on the ramparts, throwin' rocks down, when the world just lit up. And we had 'em.

"The walls? Yeah, they blew 'em. Couldn't stop 'em for nothin'. Saw that berserk orc at the last second, when he came flyin' at the wall with that torch. We tried to run, but lost half our men right there. Buncha them elves bought it, the ones down from Illithien or some such to help us out. I'da made 'em for ponces 'til then.

"I remember Helm's Deep."

***************************************************************

And props to Mr. Jackson and the guys at EA for the work on "Battle for Middle Earth." It is a most enjoyable game. Every time I take/hold Helm's Deep, it's a beauty.

Prang me, Prang me...

Dogs eyes don't see well, in comparison to human eyes. Dogs rely on their sense of smell to augment a blurry image that only gives maybe half the picture.

That picture might well be sketched in the dog brains of the world (mostly chihuahuas) in Crayola colored pencils.

That's not to say that Crayola doesn't serve a function... dogs need to see. But I'm hooked on the idea that, as a human, I deserve something a bit better. Something that blends and defines, adding art to life.

I'm hooked on prismacolor pencils.

But the damn things are expensive. I'm not talking "twice the price" expensive, either. I'm looking at 4-6 times as expensive. The little "12 piece" set (with Cole Slaw!) at the local craft shop would burn $20 out of my pocket, easy. The full blown set runs over $100.

I already own Crayola. I'm pretty sure that 24 pencils, or 48 (I can't remember) ran about $10. I can afford Crayola.

I'm just a Prismacolor guy in Crayola land.

See?

$6.99

I haven't written anything in a while. Maybe 2 years since my last story, and lately I've found myself wondering about my writing. Then I remembered:

I've been rejected!

It sounds like something to not be proud of. I mean, it's not "accepted," it's not "published," but it is "effort!"

I only remembered this after reading DeMarco-Barrett classic Pen on Fire. It's really well written, and makes you want to write.

Then, to finish off any lingering doubts, my son calls me over. "Daddy! Want to see your name?"

Figuring on another display of 4 year old spelling, I mumbled something like "sure" and got up to look.

On the screen he'd typed, "Go Charlie!"

Not just a good idea...

During the previous election, Colorado had a measure on the ballot to change how the electoral votes were cast.

If passed, the votes would be divided up, based on percentages.

To my mind, this was brilliant. Here was a way of getting closer to a popular vote, where individual votes mean more.

The opposition had a radio commercial that went something like this: "Pet rocks was an idea from California, and so is this. Don't vote for it."

It was the single dumbest argument I'd heard during the election year. Hey, New Jersey had that Edison guy, and all of his ideas were frippin' brilliant! Maybe we should pattern every state government after them!

And the action failed. Which suggests that the larger populace is stupid enough not to deserve the measure.

Such a slacker

I feel despondent, even, that I didn't post here... yesterday. Blogging is terribly addictive. To make up for my most heinous, and inexusable, inactivity yesterday, I thought I'd give someone something pretty heavy to read.

One of the reasons I didn't vote for Bush this past election was that I felt pretty strongly that his religion shouldn't be an aspect of his administration. Sure, he can have one. He can practice his religion as appropriate, and I expect it to be a part of his decision making process. I even think it's cool that people know his religion before they vote. Helps figure out what we're in for.

I disagree with giving out government money to specific religious organizations, particularly when it's going to exclude certain religions. A friend of mine is pagan, and practices independently. Is he getting fundage from the government? No. Nor should he. Suddenly everyone would be an independent religion and asking for a tax refund.

Actually, that's not a bad thought. But I digress. Often.

Back to Bush: the volley headed back my way was along the lines that separation of church and state isn't garaunteed by any document that the U.S. government uses as a foundation. I dug around and found that this is true, but...

Imagine that Bush was Hindi, or Muslim. Can you fathom the backlash that would've occured from the body of hardcore Christians in this country? Would it be right if he sent government money to help Mecca out? Or sent government money to mosques? And, of course, he would've been crucified after 9/11.

Along similar, and perhaps more realistic, lines: Pagans. Many of us Xers have known a few, and it's possible that one gets into office. Especially if that one is reasonable and good looking. It worked for Clinton, and he wasn't much on either.

The inability of some/most conservatives to look further into issues before them might well cripple them in the long run. Of course, the need to look too deeply into issues might do the same to liberals. We must seek balance.

In the case of religion, I thought we had it. Separation of church and state is more than just a good idea. It's common sense.

Bitch!

When I first met my ex-spousal unit, she used to go on about fate. "We were destined to meet," she'd say, as if we were written in the stars.

Today I received notice of her desired outcome for our impending legal clash. "The Clash" was the band that sang "We've gotta Get Out of This Place", if I recall correctly... but I digress. Maybe.

At any rate, she desires to almost have custody of him. All the time that doesn't have some manner of responsibility inherently linked to it (i.e. school days) she wants. This flies in the face of the evaluator's recommendations, which included the brotherly bond he has with his siblings, "which should not be underestimated."

My father has a saying, "got greedy." It usually means that you've overextended yourself foolishly in hopes that you'd get more than is needed, but it dovetails nicely with another quote.

I've been reading "Poisoned Blood", the story of Audrey Marie Hilley. Marie (as she was known) was a native of Anniston, Alabama and poisoned her husband to death and tried to kill her child in the same way. She traveled the U.S. attempting to conceal her true nature (and largely succeeding) until she did something almost as monumentally stupid as committing murder in the first place. She went back to her 2nd husband disguised as her twin.

So she was caught and dragged back to Anniston circa 1983. The trial lasted an unprecedented length (for the area) and ended in conviction. During the closing statements the prosecutor had this to say:

"Some people, contrary to popular belief, are evil. They are just, basically, evil, and they are motivated by nothing except their own selfish desires. And it doesn't make any difference whether it's a daughter, a husband..."

I rest my case.

Workin' in a coalmine...

What does the title have to do with the post?

"Absolutely Nothing," - Dark Helmet, "Space Balls"

My wife and I have many times spoken about my ability to recall minutiae from films across time, and possibly, space. Music oddities creep in sometimes. It's like I speak a strange dialect of the same language, built around metaphor and analogies.

And then I write stuff like that, which is crystal clear. You can't miss the message there. Am I a different person when I write? What about dialogue?

I suspect it would be easier for me to dialogue in quotes (hah!) than to use actual human-type communication. Many people have noted that my characterization tends to be flat, and the 2-D of film could accentuate that positively, use it for me rather than suffering for it.

Pasta Louisa.